Inkbending
by porcelaindakota
Summary: A collection of various drabbles, featuring different characters and pairings. [Chapter 21: iroh wants to turn... spoilers for the Headband]
1. Ozai: Crossing the Line

My son kneels before me, trembling, silent tears forcing their way down his face. Disgraceful—a man of the Fire Nation never cries. He never trembles.

He cries to me for mercy, for understanding, for forgiveness. Men of the Fire Nation do not want or give mercy; nor do they attempt to understand treachery. Men of the Fire Nation do not forgive.

If he had merely fought me, even if it had just been a facade, I would not have been quite so angry. But his actions are dishonorable. He is outright refusing to fight me. He is not only defying his father…he is defying his _Fire Lord_, and that, among _any _subject, is inexcusable.

I look into his golden eyes (_My eyes_, a tiny voice whispers inside my head), and I raise my hand, commanding flame to dance. He has disobeyed me. He will deserve his punishment.

His screams echo through the arena. The crowd falls silent.

Men of the Fire Nation know not to cross the line.

* * *

_A/N: A lot of my drabbles on here will be written for the Avatar 100. I just like to publish them. _

_Please review!_


	2. Zuko: Curse

_I'm supposed to be happy_, he thinks bitterly. _This is supposed to be a good thing_.

He leans against one of the pillars outside the birthing chamber, his hands shaking as he wipes sweat from his brow. Passers-by think that the young Fire Lord is overcome with emotion, and they are right, in a way.

A moment later, after he has composed himself, Zuko straightens and heads back into the chamber, trying to pretend that the first thing he had thought when he saw his newborn daughter wasn't that she looked _just like her aunt. _

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**_Author's Note: First off, this was written for the Avatar 100. (I'm not even going to say it from now on, just take it for granted). Second, Prima Facie means 'first impression'. Originally, I was going to try to post my drabbles in the order that I wrote them, but I loved this one so much I just had to get it up. _**

**_Please review! (Cuz you will then officially be my homie). _**


	3. Smoke

The air was filled with the smoke billowing from the massive chimneys; the smell of burning flesh hung over the large, straggling line, slowly making its way through the massive gridiron gates.

At the head of the line, a woman waited silently for judgment with her two children. Both, tranquilly unaware of their fate, held onto their mother's hand loyally, noses wrinkled at the smell of death, their dark blue eyes peering inquisitively around them, flickering eerily in the light issued from the flames.

A soldier passed them over with a quick glance, then grabbed her children's arms, jerking them towards the line going to the left. Another guard grasped her arm roughly, directing her towards the right line. She pulled away.

"I'm not leaving them," she said, dignity in her voice, as she scooped up her children and walked to the left, to where the smoke rose up in the flame-lit sky.

**_For the Avatar100's Historical AU challenge. Inspired by the bravery of the millions who perished in the Holocaust. And, though I'm a few days late, dedicated to both them and the victims of September 11th, lest we forget either of these tragedies. _**


	4. Zhao: Animal

As he is pulled down beneath the surface, he struggles and fights, the sounds of his curses against the spirits muffled in the water. He flails uselessly, attempting to free himself from the iron grip of the ocean.

He bites and tears, his only instinct to rip himself away from the death awaiting him below. Any intelligent, logical thought is gone; even the failed siege is banished from his mind. All that is left is the animal instinct, to fight, to survive.

Zhao lets out a final roar of rage as the depths of the ocean close in around him…

**_Done for the 'Animal' challenge at the Avatar 100. I miss Zhao so..._**

**_Oh, quick mention: chapter...I think it was three, anyway, my drabble 'Curse' won at the Avatar 100. _**

**_-sugarland_**


	5. Sozin: Gamble

It would be a huge risk, of course. If the Fire Nation didn't prove itself up to the task, millions would die in the struggle. Repercussions would be felt worldwide. The Fire Nation itself would be set back years, progress wise.

But it was a risk worth taking. To think of the glory if he succeeded! He would be honored beyond all other Fire Lords. And the Fire Nation itself would be finally respected as it should be—the superior element!

In this, the ultimate gamble, the entire world was up for grabs. And Sozin was determined to seize it.

_Cuz Sozin rules the world. Quite literally. _


	6. La Caduta

People scream in the streets; others hide beneath, in the sewers and catacombs of the once great city, praying desperately to the Spirits for salvation. But even under the ground, they can hear the deep, rumbling explosions, like the earth itself is trembling. And they know they are doomed. A man cries out: _'Spirits, why have you forsaken us?'_

Then, as the cries grow louder and the earth suddenly falls still, they all know that the inevitable has at last happened: the great wall has fallen, and Ba Sing Se's fate has been sealed.

**_AN: I realize I haven't updated in a long time, so...I give you two drabbles! (Next chapter: A letter from the warfront). Also, La Caduta is Italian for "the fall". _**


	7. Gale

_Dearest Biyu,_

_Our work is now done in the West, our course set for home shores. We will arrive none too soon._

_This place is cursed by the Spirits, upon this I swear. Ever since our victory, the wind has never stopped blowing, moaning in our ears, its sound unnatural and almost _alive. _The howling never stops, day or night. It is the most fearsome noise I have ever heard. _

_Though it does not become me to say this, I must conclude that we were never meant to set foot in this strange land, much less to anger it…_

_-Shihong_

**_Two things: One, this was written for the "In This Strange Land" prompt at the Avatar 100...and it won! Second, this is supposed to be written by a Fire Nation soldier, 'Shihong' (which means "the world is red"), after the massacre at the Western Air Temple at the beginning of the war. _**

**_-sugarland_**


	8. Zuko: On the Other Side

**_Note: Set during the Crossroads of Destiny. _**

It's a delicate and difficult situation—two people he has, at alternate times, thought he hated, on either side. Azula and the Avatar.

He doesn't know which side he's on—not yet, at least. He keeps himself in a position so that he can attack on either side at a moment's notice, when he knows the revelation will hit and he will understand. After long exposure, his uncle's beliefs have rubbed off on him, giving him the strange sense that somewhere, some_thing _is watching, getting ready to lead him towards his ultimate destiny.

Time freezes, slows to a crawl, as the options, the decisions he could make, lay themselves out before him. On one side there is good, and on the other evil, he knows. He just doesn't know which side is which.

Then, a voice in the back of his head: _Azula always lies. _It is soon joined by more voices—Iroh, Azula, Ozai, Ursa, others. The voices grow to a loud buzzing, until he is surrounding by the noise, encircled. _Suffering will be your teacher—never forget who you are—dad's going to kill you—get out of here while you still can!_

Time clicks back into place.

He looks, for just a moment, at all of their faces in turn. Azula's, impassive, cold and calculating; the Avatar's, taut with the exertion of battle; and finally, the waterbender—_Katara, _he corrects himself—watching him, studying him, tired and breathing hard from battle and yet still managing to look hopeful.

_Hope, _he muses. He wonders what it would be like to spread it. He wonders if he could be a hero, be one of the Avatar's staunch compatriots, just like the waterbender and her brother and the blind girl.

_You'll never know if you don't try. _He doesn't recognize the voice this time. He wonders if it's his own, some quiet little piece of Zuko that has been kept dormant all this time.

Azula's eyes widen and she lets out a mangled yelp as he spins on her, flame bursting and spinning and exploding as the Avatar and Katara join him in his attack.

And he thinks, _so this is what it's like to be a hero. _

* * *

**_Author's Note: I know, I know, I've waited WAY too long to update. But, to hopefully pacify irate readers, I give you...a triple update! And, I'll try to get some more up before next week, too. _**

**_If you're REALLY anxious for updates, review all three and make me happy! Happy authormore updates. _**

**_-sugarland_**


	9. Ursa: Prayer

Agni, please… 

It's dark in the Fire Nation.

…_give me the strength…_

The normally bursting capital city lays quiet, an unseen hand gripping at its throat. Something heavy and inhuman has fallen over it. A shadow passes over the palace and a Prince shivers in his sleep.

…_take away my frailty…_

There is the tapping of soft silk slippers on marble tile, the swish of curtains moving like ghosts in the still of night. Torches glow, faint light cutting into the black.

…_fill me with cruelty, Agni, the cruelty to kill…_

"Ursa." Azulon is surprised. "What are you doing here, daughter in law?"

…_I have to do this, Agni…let me do this…_

Ursa's sweaty palms tighten over the knife in her belt, and she sends up one final prayer.

…_thicken my blood…_

Azulon watches her, waiting for an answer. The shadow moves closer. The torches flicker and fall dark.

…_help me, Agni…_

The shadow comes into her, and she unsheathes the knife. It glints in the dark and the Fire Spirit moves forward, prepared to do what she cannot.

* * *

**_I'm absolutely fascinated with the events of Zuko Alone and Ursa's role. Can't wait to find out what exactly what happened that night. _**

**_-sugarland31_**


	10. Ursa: Guilt

It nearly breaks her heart when she finally sees him again (_deformed, just like they said_). He looks like no Prince of the Fire Nation, certainly not like the one she left behind. Guilt eats away at her (_she left him_), clawing at her from her insides, scraping at her ribcage, then burning, licking at her body and peeling away her skin.

She goes on anyway, serving him and his friends dinner, smiling and laughing and doting on him, on all of them. But it hurts her to see the hungry way he stares at her, how desperate he is when she embraces him, because it is just shows her (_shows everyone, her dishonor out in the open_) how he had to grow up without a mother, how she abandoned him.

That night, when he _finally _drifts off to sleep, she creeps into his room, tracing her fingers over the scar, its profile stark against his skin in the moonlight. She wipes her eyes, a sick feeling growing in the pit of her stomach, as the final piece falls into place, closing her in, trapping her in shame. The scar is the unavoidable proof, the visible and tangible evidence that seals her guilt.

Her entire body shakes as the truth washes over her, drowns her: _she did this to him. _

* * *

**_Yes, more Ursa. Because I steadfastly refuse to believe she's dead. _**

**_-sugarland_**


	11. Portents

Incense curls upward, sweet and pungent, a spiraling snake into the air.

A man strokes his wispy grey beard, bent over a fire before an altar to Agni. There is a popping sound, and the man cautiously removes a bone from the fire. He strokes it, muttering under his breath: _"Troubling signs… chaos… destruction… bloodshed…the Spirits, they are…angry…"_

He spends hours hunched in the temple reliquary (_a day called black sun, a shift in balance, the fall of a dynasty). _The sticks of incense burn entirely through, but their loss goes unnoticed; the call goes out for more bones.

He sends a courier to the Fire Lord, entailing his predictions and advising the Fire Lord on several preventative courses of action.

"…the eclipse would bring disaster unto the Fire Nation," he writes. "The Spirits themselves are sending it in order to stop the tyranny and bloodshed of this war. You must give up these foolish mortal pursuits and look to the supernatural, that which controls our world, for guidance. You and your ancestors have plagued the world for the past century with war. This is why the Spirits are angry. This is why they are sending the eclipse.

"If you do not find this reason enough, may I suggest you turn to your own people. Though you may not fear the Spirits, many of your subjects certainly do. Refusal to end the war—which is already unpopular—and protect against the retribution of the Spirit World may cause revolt. If word reaches the populous that you are ignoring these prophecies, the results could be disastrous…"

That night, masked men come into his home. They quietly whisk him away into the woods.

_Another man, one loyal to the Fire Lord, is appointed as a Fire Sage in his place, and talk of eclipses and political turmoil is effectively silenced. _

* * *

sigh Yes, I know I haven't been on in forever. But, hopefully, I'm back. Semi-back, at least. I'm unbelievably busy with school, and have about five million fic ideas. (And I still need to get my 1sentence set up, dammit!)

Anywho, this was written for the Portents challenge at the Avatar100, and won, I am very proud to say.

-sugarland


	12. Iroh: Solitude

"Uncle," comes the voice, one he had thought he knew, had thought he loved…

Iroh isn't so sure anymore.

_Just leave me,_ he wants to say. _Just leave an old man to die in peace. _

His heart hurts.

* * *

Prepared for the "peace" challenge at the Avatar100. 38 words.

-sugarland


	13. Zuko: Traitor Games

It is early morning, dawn rising and turning the landscape grey, when Aang finds the first note.

He wakes before the others, and is heading over to the ashes of the fire pit when he stumbles upon the scroll, wrapped in red ribbon and left, forlorn in the dirt. Curiosity aroused, he picks it up, unrolls it, and reads it.

Inside lies a map, troop positions marked in dark calligraphy ink, a thick circle drawn around the Fire Nation capital. Another, thinner scroll falls from between the folds, and he opens it to find firebending stances, the diagrams drawn in a clumsy hand.

Aang studies these for a moment, eyes wide, then rushes to wake the others.

* * *

Miles away, a scarred Prince eats breakfast, dark lines under his eyes, silently missing the taste of jook as he dines on royal fare. His sister enters, eyes glinting gold, and he shakes his sleeve to cover the lingering black of ink on his hand. 

"Good morning," he says, and together they drink to the Fire Nation.


	14. Zuko, Sokka: Things I'll Never Say

He stares, blue eyes confused as I pour the ginseng into tin cups. He sips the steaming liquid cautiously, his expression wary the entire time, trying to figure out if he can trust it—and me.

Eventually, though, he sets down the cup, staring at it in his hand for a moment. "Did he teach you how to make it?"

I nod, averting my eyes.

Sokka looks down at his hands. "It's good," he says, his voice quiet, reverent, if for only a moment.

It is small, inconsequential, but we both know it is his way of saying _I'm sorry. _

* * *

_So, I wrote this a way long time ago. Sokka and Zuko will be best friends by the end of the show--just wait and see!_

_-sugarland_


	15. Aang: the Sound and the Fury

To Ozai, it begins as a roar, something unnatural and angry and rushing all around him (_he_ _thinks of wind, of gales, of soldiers on cliffsides and bison bellowing for their riders_).

Next comes the light—it blinds him, it's so bright, and Ozai falls to his knees, covering his face and feeling his skin begin to burn (_it's vaguely reminiscent of comets, the smell of fire and death and seared flesh in the air_) and

then

it

stops.

(_It makes him think of the silence of an empty temple,_ _the void left behind when there's nothing else left). _

To Katara, it isn't the sound or the light or the smell that's the most terrifying; it's looking into Aang's eyes, glowing and murderous, and having to tell herself that he's not there anymore, when she knows that it isn't the Avatar State that's making him do these things.

("This is for my people," she remembers him saying).

* * *

_So...yes. Written for the titles challenge at the Avatar100. And the italics (he thinks of wind, of gales...) all of that, is Aang's POV. I'd like input on this one...I was definitely going for something, but I don't know if I hit it or not._

_-sugarland_


	16. Azulon: Gold

The girl's eyes are blank, gold glassed over; she sits on a red silken cushion atop the Fire Lord's dais, the color of her dead eyes matching the precious metals of the throne.

Azulon reaches out, pets her, long pale fingers stroking her soft hair. Their relationship, he thinks, is so incredibly, beautifully simple, no pesky emotions to muddle things. There is no love, and none of the complications that go with; simply this moment, his finger running down her porcelain cheekbone.

"Good girl," he says, and his lips curve into a tiger's half-smile.

* * *

_Note: before anyone says it, YES, I've gotten a million comments about how creepy this is over at the Avatar100. And apparently there's several differing points of view on who the girl is: I was originally just trying to make her a braindead/disabled girl that Azulon just sort of latched onto...but a lot of people thought it was Azula, and were like "Hey, _that's _why she's so screwed up!" Which, come to think of it, works. _

_-sugarland_


	17. Salvage, Part 1

It was pitch-black, the high point of midnight, when Hakoda first heard the _thump _against the side of the boat, something being thrown into the wooden hull by the chopping waves.

"Oh, Spirits," said one of his men, flashing a lantern over the side. "There's someone down there."

There was no formal decision to be made; the men secured a length of rope around Hakoda's waist, pulling it tight and tying it to the mast. Then he was dropped overboard. The water was frigid, making his breath catch in his throat. Hakoda grabbed a fistful of clothing, coarse traveling robes, his eyes burning with salt. (For a moment, he remembered legends he heard as a child, of sea monsters and vengeful spirits that pulled sailors beneath the water).

It wasn't until he was back on the ship that Hakoda realized that the body was alive, a young man taking shallow, waterlogged breaths. His pulse beat just beneath his skin; Hakoda felt it and sighed with relief, a rhythm to a heartbeat.

They quickly moved the boy belowdecks, wrapping him in furs and changing him from his soaked clothing; he looked a sinister sort of peaceful, Hakoda thought, as yellow candlelight flickered over his face, making the angry scar there appear to leap from his pale skin.

* * *

_So...I'm planning a little drabble series from this. I know this chapter may not seem particularly deep or amazing or anything, but I kind of needed to set things up, y'know? And yes, you will find out later why Zuko's randomly floating around in the middle of the ocean. Sort of. _

_Thanks to last chapter's reviewers: ohsoxalive, ravens secret stalker, libowiekitty, and knittingpanda. Much love to everyone who reviews this time 'round. I'd love to hear what people think of Zuko and Hakoda. _

_-sugarland_


	18. Zuko: Storm

Rain.

"_Strike me!" _The rain is hard and cold, pooling in the pits of his scar before trailing down his face. "_You've never held back before!"_

He screams, falls to the ground, pounds his fists against the thirsty earth and collapses. He curls into himself, lying on his side and breathing hard; the water falls into his nose and mouth, and he thinks he is drowning.

And then he feels it: a snap, a _crack, _something breaking and withering away in his chest, under his heart.

He rises into a new world.

On his way down the mountain, Zuko's eyes are open, his hands poised on the hilts of twin swords. He is very much aware that he is on his own, at the mercy of the storm; no one else will defend him.

Behind him, the stone is charred, the very spot on which he lay lightning-struck.

* * *

_For the Avatar100 prompt, "I Don't Believe in You Anymore". 150 words. _

_-sugarland_


	19. Salvage, Part 2

_The storm is all around them, a part of them. Hurricane force winds blow, buffeting the iron sides of the ship. His hair is slick to his skin in the pouring rain. He holds onto the ship's railing and listens to the howl of the wind._

_Footsteps, behind him. "Brother," a snake's voice, a viper seducing its prey._

_He turns and Azula's eyes flash gold, a burning horrible gold, and suddenly lightning flashes (he doesn't know if it's the storm or his sister) and then he's drowning, choking on salt and brine, and suddenly knows he's going to die…_

* * *

Zuko first woke to scents: an oil lantern, the musk of furs, salt and seawater.

After the smells came heat, warm and drowsy, comforting, like the rhythmic rock of the ship or the lull of a mother's lullaby.

Then he heard the voices: "Look, he's coming to"; "Hurry with the water"; "Bato, check his fever."

He opened his eyes.

About half a dozen or so men stood around him, watching him with soft, cautious eyes. The one nearest, a lean man with a bandage on his arm, rested his hand on Zuko's forehead, slick with sweat.

"His fever's broken," the man called Bato said quietly to the other men. "You," he continued, singling out another one of the sailors, "alert Hakoda, if you please."

Then the man called Bato turned back to him, and Zuko was surprised by his gentle touch as he placed a cool damp cloth on Zuko's warm brow. "Don't worry, son," he said. "We're going to take great care of you."

If not for the burn in his throat, Zuko would have told them that he didn't need their care; but stricken mute by the knifing ache, he simply settled down into the furs and resigned himself to this odd twist of fate. He shut his eyes and returned to his nightmare world, where he'd been betrayed and left for dead by his family and his country, where suddenly his only allies were these strange men and he was wanted alive by no one. _(At least when he was asleep, he could pretend it was only a dream)._

* * *

Wow. Sorry for not updating for a long time. I eventually just had to sit down and make myself write something. Hope it's up to par!

-sugarland


	20. What We've Forgotten

It takes years, but eventually, after hundreds of burning bodies and thousands of burning scrolls, _it _finally happens.

The legends of the Blue Spirit die away. No more bedtime stories of a masked hero, a flash of broadswords, vengeance against the Fire Nation. His story ends on the gallows, swinging before a silent sea.

The airbenders and their graves lie long forgotten. Pilgrims no longer journey to their temples, to touch the bones of holy men and seek the enlightenment that was lost. The wind stops, leaving a void on those high empty hills.

The stories, the whispers of the Blind Bandit are stomped out in Gaoling, smothered by angry soldiers in thick boots. The Earth Rumble gradually dies away, and with it, so does the Bandit's legacy.

The world forgets the young warrior with blue eyes and an easy smile. A girl is taken away from her home in Kyoshi for speaking his name, for wailing to him in the island shrine.

The waterbender passes into the realm of the forgotten soon after. An old woman cries of a lonely heart in the South Pole, and again the soldiers come and cart her away, never to be seen again outside the cold bars of a prison cell.

It takes the world longer to forget the Avatar. It takes longer to forget his brilliant smile, his compassion, his courage. In the wastelands of the Earth Kingdom, he appears as a mirage for years after, a ghost materializing in the Si Wong desert, leading the lost to refuge.

But it doesn't matter; none of their stories do. Because, in the end, the world _does _forget.

History, after all, is written by the winners.

* * *

Written for the "Samson" challenge at the Avatar100. Comes from the line "and history books forgot us, and the Bible didn't mention us, not even once".

-sugarland


	21. Iroh: Weak

Iroh wants to turn.

He can smell the food Zuko left; it's still sitting there, quiet and innocent between the prison bars. Since Ba Sing Se, Iroh has been fed nothing but gruel and misery, and he wants the food—wants that little piece of his nephew, of what _was_—so badly it's painful, a horrible hard clench in his stomach.

_Don't, _he tells himself. He needs to distance himself from Zuko, he _knows _he has to; Ozai has won, for once and for all, and he, Iroh, must cut his losses, and be logical and work for the better good and _leave Zuko_ _behind. _

He can still smell the dinner, and in his mind's eye he sees it, wrapped in rice paper and cradled in a woven bamboo box. He can see his nephew, kneeling at his cell door, placing it there between the bars.

He sees the opening of the Jasmine Dragon—_'Uncle, I need two jasmine and one leechee!'_—the young man removing the mask of a demon and placing it in the water—a solitary lifeboat, slipping into the ice of the North Pole—and other moments, too, of a boy's face wrapped in bandages, asking for his father.

The food is reaching out to him, tempting him with these memories, and it's worse than if Zuko were still in the room with him. It's reminding him of all of those little kind pieces of his nephew, the parts that he shouldn't turn away from. But Iroh refuses to eat it, because he's believed in Zuko before and _look where that got him. _The Avatar is dead and Iroh is in jail and his brother has taken over the world.

He hears Zuko's voice: _'You're a crazy old man, and if you weren't in jail, you'd be sleeping in the gutter!'_

The scent is driving him crazy; if it were alive, he would reach out and strangle it, for vexing him so, for making him relive all these horrible wonderful things; but Iroh won't eat it, he will ignore it, because it is time for him to give up on Zuko, to march on ahead and stop letting such a stupid silly little emotion as _love _get in the way of everything else, everything bigger, power and safety.

* * *

The chicken is bitter and cold; Iroh feels the juice drip down his face, stinging in the tender tracks of his tears.

He feels weak.

* * *

Written for challenge #102, Temptation, at the avatar100. 401 words.

-sugarland31


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